In Disguise
by tinlizzie82
Summary: NCIS is called on to solve the sensational murder of a naval officer. With no clues to go on, Gibbs and Tony are forced to go undercover with dangerous and revealing results. Gibbs/Tony. Casefile. Pre-slash. Warning for graphic images of a murder scene.
1. Chapter 1

The NCIS van pulled up to the vacant lot in the somewhat industrial neighborhood of the Washington suburb. The team got out, gazing around with curiosity at the environs and the yellow crime scene tape strung on the chain link fence that blocked the lot off from the street. A uniformed D.C. cop stood guard at the broken gate, although the deserted street offered no passerbys to deflect. Gibbs walked up to the officer and introduced himself.

"Agent Gibbs, NCIS," he said as he flashed his badge. "What've we got? Mugging gone wrong?"

"Ah, no, definitely not a mugging." Gibbs raised his eyebrows when the cop failed to elaborate, and the man explained. "You'll have to see for yourself, I don't even want to describe it."

"How'd you identify the victim?"

"Killer did it for us, left the poor sod's military ID lying on his back. As soon as we saw it, we secured the scene and called you guys. It's all yours now." With a wave of his hand, the cop invited them in to see.

Tony, McGee, and Ziva grabbed their gear and followed Gibbs into the lot, ducking under the yellow tape and hurrying in his wake. They stopped short as soon as they saw the scene. They'd seen bodies hacked to pieces or burnt to a crisp. Even unidentified limbs lacked the ability to shock them, but this scene stopped them cold. The evidence of the killer's rage was written clearly in the condition of the corpse and the indignities that had been perpetrated upon it.

"Looks like someone has an anger management problem," Tony said, biting back a chuckle when Gibbs turned to glare at him. "I know, boss, inappropriate." Then he smacked himself on the back of the head. "See, all taken care of, no need for you to even raise a hand."

Gibbs tried, mostly successfully, to keep a smile from quirking the corners of his mouth as he gave his senior agent a punishing glare. Tony's remark had been inappropriate, but it had had the desired effect, lightening the mood enough to break the sick spell cast by the corpse, and Gibbs knew that was entirely deliberate. "Enough gawking, let's get to work. McGee, Ziva - bag and tag. Tony you -"

"- Shoot the scene," Tony said, holding up his camera. "On it, boss."

While his team was occupied, Gibbs stepped over to the body and bent down to examine it. Other than a few superficial cuts, there wasn't a lot of blood, but the body had been beaten so badly that there was no way to tell which blow might actually have killed the man. In fact, broken limbs and swelling from the beating made the corpse barely identifiable as human. The victim lay on his face, stark naked, with his hands bound together but his legs separated. On his back, lying in a puddle of some sticky white substance, was the military ID that identified him as Lieutenant Colonel Jonathan Sewell, U.. Protruding from his anus was a short length of what looked like a broken broom handle.

Gibbs stood back up and gazed around speculatively. "What were you doing here?" he asked, not expecting a reply.

"I might be able to answer that, or at least tell you where he was before his killer brought him here," Ziva said, holding up a wallet she had just located among the weeds that grew with abandon in the derelict lot. "There is a register receipt dated last night. From someplace called ... 'Unzipped'"

"Some sort of nightclub?" wondered McGee.

"More likely a sex club, given its name," Gibbs said.

"And it's right around the corner from here," Tony added.

McGee paused in his search of the weeds and looked at Tony. "Please tell me you don't know that because you've been there."

"So what if I have," Tony replied. Gibbs and Ziva raised their eyebrows as McGee continued to gape at him in horror. Tony gave a snort of disgust. "For God's sake, McGullible, we passed it on the way here."

Moments later, McGee crowed in triumph. "Found 'em!"

"Found what?" Gibbs asked. "The murder weapon?"

"No, the victim's clothes," he said as he bent over to look more closely at his discovery. "It seems to be some sort of uniform."

"Navy?" Gibbs asked.

"No, it's not Navy," McGee said uncertainly

"For God's sake, McGee, tell me what it is, not what it isn't."

"It is a _sexy_ uniform," said Ziva, who had joined McGee and was now prodding the discarded pile of clothes with a gloved finger.

Gibbs brow wrinkled in confusion but he let her comment pass. There would be plenty of time later to inspect the outfit, right now he wanted to get the body back to the morgue and find out what Ducky had to say about its condition.

A few hours later, bags of evidence from the lot had been deposited in Abby's lab, where they would keep her occupied for the foreseeable future, and Gibbs was down in the morgue, getting Ducky's preliminary report on the corpse.

"So Duck, do you know what killed him?"

"Well, any one of these blows could have done the job, but if you look at his eyes, you will see many broken capillaries, giving them a bloodshot appearance-"

"Petechiae. So he was strangled?"

"Very good, Jethro, and, yes, I believe that he was strangled with some sort of ligature, perhaps a rope," said Ducky as he indicated the mottled bruising on the body's neck.

"What about the rest of the injuries? Did they happen before or after he was killed?"

"Judging from the amount of swelling, I would say that they happened during the hour prior to his death."

"What about the broomstick?"

"It caused little to no bleeding so I would have to say that that was inserted post mortem."

"Were there any other signs of sexual assault? What about that stuff on his back, was it -"

"Semen? No, I sent a sample down to Abby but I am almost certain it was methyl cellulose. A very versatile compound, it is the main ingredient in many laxatives and it can also be used as a lubricant and a thickener. It is odorless and tasteless and can be found in everything from paint to pudding." Ducky glanced over, saw Gibbs' look of impatience, and quickly moved on to the more pertinent facts. "It is also a favorite of the porn industry when they need to simulate semen, and I believe that was our killer's intention."

"So we're dealing with some sort of psycho sex killer here. One that has a problem with both gays and the Navy."

"Not necessarily. While there are certainly sado-sexual elements in the way the body was posed, the rage that the severe beating implies makes me think that the murderer was actually someone with unresolved homosexual tendencies who was trying to kill his own urges, by proxy as it were."

"And the way he displayed the victim's ID? Does he have a problem with the Navy as well?" Gibbs asked.

"Possibly, or it could be the military in general, or even just authority figures. It could even be Sewell in particular. We won't know until we catch the killer."

"Yeah," agreed Gibbs, "that's the problem with profiles, they don't help much until you catch the guy, and then you don't need them anymore."

Gibbs didn't get the chance to complain any further because his phone rang. He looked at it with annoyance, but when he saw who was calling he answered without hesitation. "Gibbs here ... yes, Director, we're working on it ... nothing yet, but we've only just started going through the evidence ... Director, you don't normally bother with day to day cases, why are you so interested in this one? ... Uh huh ... I'll be up in a moment." Gibbs hung up the phone and looked back at Ducky. "There's still one thing I don't get. This guy was a high ranking officer, older, yes, but still in his prime. How did the killer get around his defenses so easily?"

"That, Jethro, is easy to answer. Our high ranking officer was drunk as a sailor's whore."

"Drugs?"

"No, just whiskey. Had he lived, he would have needed a cab to get home, since he most assuredly was not legal to drive."

"Thanks, Duck. Keep me informed of anything new you find out." And with that, Gibbs left the morgue.

"So, are we sure Sewell was at that club?" Vance asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.

"Tony showed his picture to the manager, who confirmed that Sewell was there last night," Gibbs answered.

"Thanks to the sensitive nature of this case, we need to wrap this up as soon as possible," said Vance as he skewered Gibbs with his gaze.

"You implying I'd do less than my best?"

"No, no. I'm just thinking about the press. Sooner or later the shit is going to hit the fan no matter how hard we try to keep this under wraps. We've got a high ranking Naval officer killed after leaving a kinky, gay, sex club, not to mention posed in a suggestive way. That would be bad enough by itself but with the current debate over DADT, it's media dynamite. If we can solve it before the story leaks, I think we can minimize the fallout. I just want you to know you're authorized to do whatever is necessary to get results."

"Now those are my kind of instructions," said Gibbs with a feral grin.

"Gibbs," warned Vance, "let's try to stay within the law."

Gibbs smiled again as he headed for the door. "I always do."

"I mean US laws, Gibbs," said Vance in vain as the door swung shut behind his most talented team leader. "US laws, not your own damned rules." Vance sighed. While he trusted Gibbs to get results quickly, he wasn't sure he trusted him not to create a scene while doing so.

In truth, Gibbs was nowhere near as confident about the case as he had led Vance to believe. So far, they had only been able to ascertain that Captain Jonathan Sewell had been seen at Unzipped, a club that catered to gay men with a penchant for role playing and other fetishes, sometime during the evening before he was found dead in. Despite the fact that local police had confirmed that at least two other patrons of the club had been murdered in less than two years, so far their investigation had turned up few leads. The vacant lot had yielded plenty of forensic evidence but since it was a favorite trysting spot for both club goers and the local teens it was doubtful that any of it would be useful. His team had spent the day interviewing the club owner and trying to track down other patrons. Gibbs could only hope that their efforts had turned up something they could use.


	2. Chapter 2

"Whadda'ya got," barked Gibbs as he entered the bullpen.

Ziva looked up from her desk and shrugged. "Not much. It seems that most of the club members used an alias and paid cash. I am not surprised given the nature of their activities, but I can not find anyone to interview. McGee is trying to track them down via cell phones and the few credit card receipts we have."

Gibbs looked over at McGee. "I need that information now."

"I'm working on it, boss. Most of the cells are throwaways and practically all of the cards are under aliases. I can get the real information on the card holders but it's gonna take some time for me to hack into the banks."

"Time we don't have, so why are you talking. I want those witnesses found."

"Y..y...yes boss," stammered McGee as he bent back over his keyboard and started typing feverishly.

Gibbs turned to Tony who had been obviously preening while he waited his turn. "DiNozzo, please tell me that look means you've got a lead."

"Interviewed the club manager and he gave me some interesting information. I gotta tell you, boss. That is one unique dude. Very Nathan Lane in Birdcage."

"Tony, did you learn anything helpful," said Gibbs with a distinct edge to his voice.

"I'm getting to it, boss, has any one ever told you you're very impatient?"

Gibbs reached over and swatted the back of Tony's head, causing the younger man to yelp, but also to get back on track. "Nathan, uh... oops ... Mr. Bennett, told me that all of the vics came to the club dressed in some sort of uniform as their costume."

"D.C. police said that both the prior victims had military backgrounds as well," contributed McGee.

"Maybe the killer has a uniform fetish," said Ziva.

"Or a military kink," suggested Tony.

"Dammit! Do I look like the FBI," asked Gibbs. The team shook their heads in confusion at this question. "Then why are you giving me profiling? I want facts and I want them now!" Before the team could protest, he stomped off in search of some coffee as a way to hide his frustration.

Unfortunately the afternoon produced few new leads. McGee did manage to locate the names of a few witnesses but the interviews were not very productive.

Gibbs: Did you see Captain Sewell at the club last night?

Witness: Who?

Gibbs (growling): Captain Sewell, the victim ... he was dressed in a uniform.

Witness: Oh, you mean military man. Yeah, I saw him dance with (talk to, drink with ...) the slave boy (roman soldier, guy in harem pants ...).

Gibbs (slamming his fists on the table): Names!

Witness (quivering): I don't know. Almost no one gives their real names.

Gibbs: Then give me a description.

Witness: I can't. They were wearing masks. Most of us do. Please, you won't tell my wife (boss, family ...) will you? I'd help if I could but ...

The scenario was repeated over and over. Not one witness was able to give any concrete information. Gibbs' patience was beginning to fray but finally even he had to admit defeat and sent the team home for the day.

The next morning, the team was almost quivering with anxiety as they awaited Gibbs' arrival. Even Tony had made it in early in the hope of blunting Gibbs' wrath at their lack of progress. They were all hard at work when Tony startled them by smacking his hand against his desk in frustration.

"Dammit, there's nothing!" he exclaimed before turning to McGee. "Probie, please tell me you've got some new information, 'cause if we don't come up with something I wouldn't want to lay bets on us surviving the morning."

"I've correlated all the receipts from the nights before the murders - and there are plenty of repeats. The problem is that the club seems to have lots of regulars so I don't think it means much."

"I would think that our perp is a regular," said Ziva.

"Yeah, but my list is still twenty-three people long and that doesn't include the ones that paid cash. We have no way of even identifying them," pointed out McGee in a defeated tone. "Tony, you've been looking for other related crimes. Have you found anything?"

"Other than the fact that there are a lot of sick people out there? I've found a killer who uses snakes, one who's into riding crops and you wouldn't believe this guy with a thing for chickens ..."

"Tony," growled Ziva," I do not think we need to hear that."

"Yeah, right. Interesting reading but I've got nothing ... zip ... bupkas. If our killer has done this before, it didn't make it into the database. I'll call Abby. Maybe she has something." He dialed the lab and then held the receiver away from his ear as music came blasting out. "Abby ... jeez, turn that down for a minute so I can put you on speaker." When the noise level decreased, he hit the button and Abby's voice floated out into the bullpen.

"Tony, what can I do you for?"

"I was wondering if you had found something on the Sewell case?"

"I found lots of somethings. In addition to all the trash you sent in, I have the DNA of at least eleven different people and more than twenty sets of footprints."

"Any of it helpful?" asked McGee.

"Well yeah, McGee, if you bring me a suspect, I can probably put him at the scene but as far as identifying him? I might as well use a Ouija board to try to tell what all the trace evidence means."

"You are sure there is nothing, Abby? Gibbs is due in any minute and he is not going to be happy if we still do not have any leads," said Ziva.

"I can run every test in the book and they'll tell me who was there but they can't tell me what they were doing. Well, in the case of the used condoms, I guess I know what they were doing ..."

"Eew, Abby, enough with that visual," said Tony as he made a disgusted face. "I already had to collect them; I definitely don't want to talk about them. Did you get anything off of Captain Sewell's clothes?"

"All the trace was either from him or from the bushes where they were thrown. I did get a few prints off the leather, but given that the man was hanging out at a sex club, I don't know that they mean much. I'm running them through AFIS now but I haven't gotten any hits yet."

"Well, call us right away if you do," said Tony before he hung up the phone.

Just then, the elevator dinged and the entire team looked over, their anxiety plain on their faces.

McGee glanced at his watch. "That's gotta be Gibbs," he said in a worried voice.

"Perhaps we should have gotten him some coffee," said Ziva.

"I don't think coffee'll help. To bad he doesn't drink on duty, because a few fingers of bourbon might do the trick," said Tony.

They waited with baited breath for the doors to slide open. When they did, Gibbs emerged with a coffee in his hand and a smile on his face. Over his shoulder he carried two garment bags. When he reached his desk, he hung the bags over the divider and turned to his team, who were regarding him with amazed looks.

"Report," he said.

In an attempt to preserve his unexpected good mood, Tony, Tim, and Ziva scrambled to their feet in front of him anxiously speaking over the top of each other. "I found ...," "There aren't ...," "Abby says ..."

"One at a time," said Gibbs with a grin. "You start, McGee."

"I found the names of twenty three club goers who were present on the nights before all three murders. Ziva and I have already interviewed half of them by phone but so far no one remembers anything unusual. Also, there were lots of cash customers I have no way of tracing. Sorry, boss."

"No problem, McGee. Tony, whatcha got."

Tony had to make an effort to close his gaping mouth before answering. He wasn't sure what had happened to the real Gibbs, but he was pretty sure he liked this replacement better. "Oh ... uhm ... I've gone through the national sex crimes database but so far I haven't found any other incidents that match up. I think our perp is just getting started."

"I agree. Ziva, anything new from Abby?" asked Gibbs with his small smile still intact.

"She says she has a lot of evidence but no conclusions - unless we can bring her a suspect."

"Well, then that's what we're going to do," declared Gibbs. He picked up the garment bags and after inspecting them for a moment, handed one to Tony. "Put this on and meet me down in the lab so Abby can wire us up. We're going undercover." He turned and left the bullpen, his team staring after him in shock.

"What is in the bag, Tony?" asked Ziva, unable to contain her curiosity in light of Gibbs' unexpected behavior.

Tony unzipped the carrier, revealing a marine's uniform, complete with some impressive fruit salad on the lapel.

"D'ya thinks Gibbs is just happy to be getting back into uniform?" asked McGee.

"More likely he is happy to be getting Tony into uniform," taunted Ziva with a laugh.

Tony blushed and tried to swat her to cover up his embarrassment but she danced out of his reach. "The only problem is that I don't think he ever looked at the 'uniform' Captain Sewell was wearing."

"Yeah," said McGee, "I bagged it and sent it to Abby while he was still looking over the body. So who's gonna tell him that these outfits won't work?"

"Tony is the one wearing it. It is his job," said Ziva. "And I want to be there when he does it."

"I think I'll let Abby explain," said Tony with a wince. "I wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea - and I definitely don't need you two there. Guess I'd better get changed and prepare for the fireworks." He sighed and headed for the men's room. "Just when I thought I might actually make it through this day alive ..." he muttered to himself as he left.

When Tony finally made it down to Abby's lab, he found that Gibbs had already arrived. Abby was dancing around him, snapping pictures with her phone while Gibbs tried unsuccessfully to talk to her. Tony could sympathize with Abby's excitement; Gibbs cut quite an imposing figure in his uniform. He seemed to stand taller and be imbued with an added dignity. Not to mention the fact that there was something about the neat tailoring and crisp creases that was just so damn sexy. All that perfection just begged to be mussed. No matter how tight or revealing the clothing, there was just no other outfit that could compete with a man in a uniform, especially a marine uniform. Tony smiled when he remembered that he was in uniform as well and walked into the room with his shoulders squared. He couldn't wait to see Gibbs' reaction.

"Oh my God, Tony, you're wearing one too. This is my lucky day. C'mere quick, I need a picture of you both together."

Tony kept his eyes on Gibbs as Abby grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over. The functional mute seemed truly speechless as his eyes wandered over Tony. Finally he shook himself a little and emerged from his daze.

"Not bad, DiNozzo," he said with a smirk, "But thanks to the hair no one will ever believe you're a real marine."

Before Tony could answer, Abby had shoved him up next to Gibbs and stepped back to take a picture. Tony could feel the tension radiating from the other man and knew it was mostly due to his closeness. Tony had been attracted to Gibbs for as long as he could remember but recently he had come to believe that the attraction might be mutual. Gibbs, mulish marine that he was, seemed determined to ignore it. The entire team could see it. Even clueless McGee saw it, although Tony could tell every time the thought crossed the younger agent's mind by the blush that spread across his face at the same time. Gibbs, however, was holding the line and Tony did not dare cross it. Better that he was tortured by Gibbs' presence than devastated by a separation. All he could do was wait and hope the man came to his senses sooner rather than later.

"I can't believe I have both of you in uniform," squealed Abby, bringing Tony out of his reverie. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"We're going undercover. I need you to wire us for sound and video," answered Gibbs.

Abby's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Undercover for what?" she asked.

_Oh no, _thought Tony, _here we go._

"For the case. If you can't find leads you gotta make them," explained Gibbs.

"You're going to Unzipped dressed like that?" Abby was incredulous.

"Perp's got a thing for military men in uniform. Now he'll have two to choose from."

"Uh, Gibbs, have you seen the 'uniform' that Sewell was wearing?" asked Abby. Gibbs raised his eyebrows as Abby continued, "It wasn't exactly regulation."

"Just what_ was_ he wearing?" asked Gibbs, suspiciously.

"Look, you're determined to do this, right?" asked Abby, looking back and forth between Gibbs and Tony.

"I don't see any other way we can get a break," said Gibbs. Tony just shrugged. After all, it wasn't his idea.

"Okay. You need to leave it up to me. I know just where to go to get what you need." She bustled about turning off machines before grabbing her coat and bag and heading for the door, rubbing her hands together in anticipatory glee. "Finally I get to have some real fun," she said to herself as she walked out the door.

"Uh, Gibbs, are we really gonna let Abby dress us. Nothing against her fashion sense but she does wear a lot of leather ... and spikes ... and boots. I don't think I could carry off her boots, boss."

"Do you have a better alternative, Tony?"

Tony thought for a moment. "Nope."

"Then yes, we're gonna let her dress us." Gibbs turned and headed back up to the bullpen.

Tony found himself staring at Gibbs as he walked away, mesmerized by the view of his uniformed backside. And, he admitted to himself, tantalized by the idea of Gibbs outfitted in Abby chic.

"DiNozzo!" barked Gibbs, startling Tony out of his fantasy. "Move your ass already."

Tony blinked once then hurried to catch up.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony didn't accomplish much while they waited for Abby to return. In the interest of saving time, Gibbs had insisted they stay in the marine uniforms rather than change twice. Unfortunately, the sight of Gibbs in his uniform was far too distracting for Tony to concentrate on anything else. He did not appear to be the only one thus affected. It seemed like every woman in the building found an excuse to wander through the bullpen at least once during the day. Gibbs was the only one who remained oblivious to their stares and whispered comments.

Finally Abby returned carrying some garment bags. Tony eyed the logo on the bags suspiciously. Inside a scrolled border made up of intertwined cuffs, whips and some objects he didn't care to identify were the words "Fetish Heaven".

"'Bout time, Abs," growled Gibbs when he saw her.

"Sorry it took so long, I tried the local shop but they didn't have what I wanted so I had to go to my favorite *toy* store all the way out by Annapolis," said Abby by way of an explanation. "Don't worry; I think the results will be worth it."

"Just give us the damn things so we can suit up and get wired," said Gibbs as he reached for the bags.

Abby swung the bags behind her back and out of his reach, shaking her finger at him. "Uh, uh, you can put them on down in my lab. I went to get them so I get to have the first viewing. Besides, somehow I doubt you really want to put them on up here where everyone can see."

Tony cringed at her words. He could only imagine what she had purchased. Gibbs just shrugged. "Don't see what the big deal is, gotta go out in public later," he said.

McGee was staring at the three of them with a confused look, but Ziva gave Tony her most knowing smirk as he walked past her, following Abby down to the lab. As soon as Abby, Gibbs and Tony disappeared into the elevator, Ziva and McGee ran to the stairwell, pushing each other in their effort to be the first to get downstairs and watch.

"You know, I hope you appreciate this, Gibbs," said Abby as she led them into her lab," Men's costumes are NOT easy to find. I wonder why that is? I would certainly enjoy them. For example, you'd make a great vampire, Gibbs. I can just see you in a cape, with fangs ... mmmm ..."

"Enough Abs," growled Gibbs, "Not a game."

Abby sighed in resignation. "Well, I started at the local sex shop but they didn't have what I was looking for. They suggested I try a local costume rental ..."

"Jesus Christ, Abby, please tell me we're not wearing rentals." Tony shivered in horror at the thought.

Abby huffed in indignation. "Tony, you are talking to a connoisseur here. I would never use a rental. That's just gross."

"Abs, I don't care if you made 'em yourself. I just want to get wired up and get on with this," said Gibbs.

"Well here you go, bossman," said Abby as she handed him one of the bags. "Let me know if you need any baby powder to get it on."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows in confusion at Abby's last statement while Tony tried to turn a snort of laughter into a cough. As soon as Gibbs had left, he rolled his eyes at Abby. "Exactly what kind of *uniform* did you get him."

"A leather one."

"Does it come with a whip?" asked Tony while demonstrating his best lascivious look.

"Would you stop already," said Abby, swatting at Tony with her free hand. "And besides, I don't think you should say anything until you see what you're wearing." Then she unzipped the other garment bag with a flourish. Inside there was a diaphanous silk top and a pair of skintight burgundy velvet pants that flared out at the bottom. Hanging in front of it all was some sort of studded leather harness.

"Uh, Abs, what exactly am I supposed to be?"

"I told you, there aren't a lot of men's costumes. I sort of see this as 'Arabian Nights' meets 'Gladiator'. Now go and put it on."

She handed Tony the bag and shoved him towards the door. As soon as he left she hurried over to her laptop and made sure the camera was aimed at the center of the room. "After all my work getting the outfits, I deserve to record this," she muttered to herself with a smile.

When Gibbs walked back into the lab Abby was still standing next to the laptop ready to make any adjustments that might be needed. As soon as she saw him her jaw dropped in astonishment and all thoughts of the camera disappeared.

"Jesus, Abs, do you actually expect me to wear this. I look like a ... "

"... Interstellar cop from some NC-17 sci-fi flick," finished Tony as he walked into the lab and tried to eye Gibbs without appearing to salivate.

"I was going to say idiot," was Gibbs' response.

"I think you look hot,'" said Abby as she admired what she considered her masterpiece. Gibbs was dressed almost all in black. He wore a hip length leather jacket, cut in a military style, complete with leather epaulets, a black, visored hat and black leather boots that laced halfway up his calves. Under the jacket was a silky dark blue shirt, the neck of which exposed the top of Gibbs' well-muscled chest. An official looking holster was slung around his hips but the piece de resistance were his pants. Crafted entirely out of leather, they were tight, black and shiny with a dark blue stripe running up the sides that perfectly matched his shirt. In the front, just peeking out between the edges of his coat, were the grommets and laces that took the place of a zipper.

"She's right, you do look hot," said Tony. Gibbs gave Tony a sharp glance, making him quickly try to qualify his statement. "Uh, I'm just saying, the whole point of an interstellar cop is to look hot in the uniform. And, uh, you carry it off quite well." He was having to make an effort not to stare at the laces ... and the bulge they contained.

Gibbs rolled his eyes, but finally examined Tony's outfit. There were no laces needed on his pants, which were so stretchy and tight that they left little to the imagination. Every curve of his muscled thighs and rounded buttocks was outlined by the burgundy velvet before it flared out slightly below the knee. Gibbs was rendered momentarily speechless as Abby bustled over to Tony and began adjusting the loose, semi-translucent, silk top to better show off the chest harness he was wearing underneath. i_Like a shoulder holster ... only better,/i _was the first coherent thought that crossed Gibbs' mind. Then he shook his head to clear it. "DiNozzo, you look like you belong in a Moroccan whorehouse. What happened to *his* uniform Abs?"

"I decided that two new guys in leather would be suspicious. We don't want our perp to get spooked."

"There's only one problem with this outfit, Abby," Tony said with a wry look. "Where the heck am I supposed to conceal my gun?"

Abby looked Tony up and down with more appreciation than he would have liked. Tony was right, the clinging pants and flimsy shirt left almost everything visible. "Ankle holster?" she finally suggested. Tony just grimaced.

The rest of the afternoon was spent wiring them for sound and pictures. Abby replaced one of the buttons on Gibbs' jacket with a tiny camera and a microphone became an extra stud on Tony's harness.

"I'm also gonna give you some extra cameras. They have an adhesive backing; you can plant them when you first arrive. That way we'll have a complete view of the club no matter where you guys go. McGee and Ziva will be outside in the van picking up the signals and sending them on to me. Even if you don't attract our killer, we'll be able to pick up any hinky behavior in the patrons."

"Abs, it's a fetish club. I think the definition of that is hinky," pointed out Gibbs.

"Any _abnormally_ hinky behavior, Gibbs," she said with a sigh. "Tony, I think you're gonna have to keep an eye in Gibbs tonight. I'm getting the feeling he's never been to this sort of club before."

"And Tony has?"

Tony found himself blushing as he nodded. "Not exactly like this one ... but ... well ... in my younger days ... I, uh, liked to catch some action."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, "It's a wonder that's the only thing you caught. Not gonna ask about you, Abs. Don't want to know." Abby just laughed. "C'mon, DiNozzo. Let's gear up and get moving."

"On your six, Boss." _And what a six it is_, thought Tony as he followed Gibbs to the elevator.

"Wait," yelled Abby, "You need your masks." She grabbed them from her purse and hurried to pass them to Tony before the door slid shut.

Once the elevator doors had closed, Abby announced to the empty room, "I recorded it all if you guys want a preview." The stairwell door swung suddenly open, causing McGee to fall into the vestibule and swear at Ziva, who chuckled as he sprawled out onto the floor.

"How'd you know we were here?" asked McGee.

"If I was taping, I knew you'd be spying," replied Abby with a laugh, "C'mon, I've got the whole thing on my laptop."


	4. Chapter 4

It was dark by the time Gibbs and Tony arrived at Unzipped. The club was an unassuming storefront sandwiched between two small strip malls in Anacostia, just outside D.C. proper. The only hints as to its nature were the blacked out windows on either side of the entrance and the muted sign above the door.

"We'll go in separately," said Gibbs as he dropped Tony off in front of the club. "You go first, I'll park."

"On it, boss."

Tony sauntered into the club, pulling on his mask before he paid the cover charge. He removed the trench coat he had been wearing to cover his costume, casually sliding a hand up the wall to plant a camera as he passed it to the attendant at the coat check.

"McGee, I've activated the first camera. It should give you a good view of the entrance," he whispered. Then he walked through the black curtains that led into the club proper.

'I've got it," came the tinny sounding reply in his ear. "It's a good view, I'll tell Gibbs to save his for inside."

"Okay, I'm gonna go mingle now."

Tony sauntered into the club, his eyes scanning the room to gauge the clientele. Although the clubs, both coed and same sex, he had frequented in the past were not as extreme, and he had certainly never attended one in so explicit an outfit, he felt perfectly comfortable in this atmosphere. _It's like riding a bike_, he thought as he frankly met the gazes of some interested patrons, _ even if you haven't done it for years, it comes right back to you._ He found himself a good vantage point at the bar, ordered a drink, and swiveled around to wait for Gibbs to arrive.

No sooner had the bartender brought him his drink than Gibbs marched through the door. Even clad in suggestive leather, the man still carried himself like a marine. That was not necessarily a bad thing, reflected Tony, since their perp had a penchant for military men. The problem was that he not only walked like a marine, he was also looking around the room like a cop. Tony knew that Gibbs was perfectly capable of blending in on most undercover operations but this situation appeared to be the exception that proved the rule. It was not so much that he appeared uncomfortable as that his suspicion seemed to radiate off him in waves. Tony knew he needed to do something and he needed to do it fast. He grabbed his drink off the counter, thankful that he had decided to order bourbon despite the fact that it was definitely breaking protocol, and headed across the room to intercept Gibbs.

He stopped in front of Gibbs and held up his glass. "Can I offer you a drink," he said in his best seductive voice.

"What the hell are you doing, DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs under his breath, "I thought we agreed to stay separate so the perp could approach me, not to mention the fact that you're drinking."

"No, you're the one that will be drinking. Consider me part of your cover, because right now you couldn't look more like a cop if you had come in here wearing a real uniform. You need to loosen up, so drink this and then let's dance."

Gibbs gave him a glare that let Tony know he was itching to headslap him, but he accepted the drink and took a big swallow before following Tony towards the dance floor. He must have made quick work of the bourbon because by the time they were on the outskirts of the seething mass of bodies, the glass was empty and Gibbs was looking a little more relaxed. Tony grabbed his hand and led him into the crush.

When they started to dance, Tony was surprised. He had somehow expected that Gibbs would do some version of the white man's overbite, but his boss could actually move. When he thought about it, he realized it was not so much that he thought Gibbs *couldn't* dance as that he thought he *wouldn't*.

It was a different story when the music changed. The rapid dance beat faded out as the song ended, only to be replaced by a much slower instrumental - with a throbbing, almost sexual rhythm. Gibbs turned away and started to walk off the dance floor but Tony grabbed his sleeve and stopped him.

"In for a penny, in for a pound, boss. We need to convince our perp that you're the real thing, so hang on and try to look like you're enjoying yourself."

And with that statement, Tony pulled Gibbs in tight and started to move to the song's sinuous beat.

Gibbs' body was stiff and resistant as he muttered in Tony's ear, "DiNozzo, what the fuck d'ya think you're doing?"

"It's called grinding, or at least it would be if you'd participate a little. Now help me convince the audience that you *want* to be here."

Gibbs growled low in his throat, but he finally started to move along with Tony, although he was still attempting to keep at least a small space between their bodies. Tony let this go on for a few moments and then he reached down to grasp Gibbs' leather clad ass and pulled his hips hard against his own. Gibbs let out a shocked gasp and Tony chuckled softly.

"All for a good cause, boss. All for a good cause."

Tony didn't know if his exhortation had done the trick or if it was just the bourbon going to work, but Gibbs finally began to loosen up. As Gibbs' body pressed up against his own and they found a mutual rhythm, the accumulated sensations started to take his breath away. As much as he was enjoying the opportunity provided by this undercover op he knew he had to control himself. Even if for no other reason than that his costume would not allow him to hide his *feelings*.

Back in the van, Ziva and McGee gazed intently at the screen.

"I can not believe what I am seeing," said Ziva as she watched the picture of the dance floor. "They look like they are glued together."

"You're one to talk; I seem to remember you doing a rather convincing imitation of the horizontal mambo with Tony when you were undercover."

"It was not real ..."

"The FBI might beg to differ."

"... and I did not enjoy it."

"Right. Well, at least _they _have their clothes on." This last comment earned McGee an elbow in the ribs. The close confines of the tactical van prevented him from moving away to blunt the blow and he let his breath out in a sharp gasp. "Jeez, Ziva, take it easy. I think you just bruised a rib."

Suddenly Abby's voice came over both their headsets. "I can't believe you guys are bickering when you could be watching. Isn't it just the cutest thing you've ever seen?"

"Cute, Abby? I don't know that I'd call it ..." McGee gasped as he watched the action on screen. "What is Gibbs doing?"

"I believe Tony called it grinding," replied Ziva in a dry voice.

Back on the dance floor, Tony was having about the same reaction as McGee. He gave a sharp intake of breath when, with no warning, Gibbs stretched out one muscular thigh, wedged it between Tony's legs, and began thrusting his hips hard with the rhythm of the music. For a moment Tony gave in to the sensations. After all, this was just what he had dreamed of for so long. Or at least almost the same, since in his dreams they definitely weren't wearing anything like the outfits they currently had on. Actually, in his dreams they rarely wore any outfits at all.

Tony shook his head a bit to clear his mind. He was finding it harder and harder to concentrate and knew it was only a matter of time before he lost control. While one part of him actually wanted to let that happen, wanted to show Gibbs exactly how he felt, the rest of him was too scared of losing the respect and friendship they did have. It was time to end this.

"Hey, boss, exactly how many times have you seen Dirty Dancing? Because I'm thinking it must be a favorite of yours."

Gibbs chuckled and pulled back enough to look Tony in the eye. "You complaining?" he asked in a voice that had gone strangely husky.

"Uh, no ... well yes ... I mean no, but ..." Tony struggled to find an answer knowing that the rest of the team could hear every word he said. Finally he gave up. "I think it's time to separate now. I think that last dance should have convinced pretty much everyone in the room that you're for real."

Gibbs nodded and Tony headed back to his vantage point by the bar. Gibbs planted himself at an empty table that he hoped would serve as an invitation for any interested parties to approach. He did not have to wait long for a shadow to detach itself from the wall and head towards his table. As the figure walked through the pools of light it resolved itself into a tall, slender man, somewhere in his late twenties. He was dressed in unrelieved black that started at his Italian dress shoes and ended at his leather gloved hands. His shirt was buttoned all the way up to his neck and his masked face was pale, framed by flowing shoulder length dark hair.

The man sat down opposite Gibbs and leaned forward to speak to him. "New here? I don't think I've seen you before."

"I'd think the masks make it hard to know that for sure."

"Oh, but the costumes make it easy. Most of the clientele are creatures of habit, the same unimaginative fetishes night after night. Are you enjoying the club?"

"It was recommended to me by a friend but until a moment ago it was not living up to expectations." Gibbs decided that his gut was sending out warnings about this guy so he made an effort to seem seductive.

"What changed?"

"You arrived."

The younger man gave a creepy chuckle and slouched back in his chair with a sardonic smile on his face. "Glad I could help. May I buy you a drink?"

"Vodka tonic - with lime." Gibbs knew Tony would intercept the waitress and substitute a plain tonic and lime which would be indistinguishable from the real thing.

As the man waved for a server, Gibbs heard Abby's voice speak softly into his ear. "Gibbs, you've got to get him to take off his mask so I can run facial recognition software on him. This guy is giving me a really hinky feeling. I found a long, dyed black hair in the evidence from the murder scene. I assumed it was a woman's but it could have come from this guy. I think he's wearing a wig."

Once his companion had placed an order, Gibbs reached up and pushed his own mask back onto his head. He gave an engaging smile and said, "I don't know about you, but I like to know the name and face of anyone I am going to have a ... *drink* ... with. I'm Gibbs."

"Is Gibbs a first or last name?"

"Just Gibbs." And with that he waited, his eyes never leaving the man across the table from him, hoping he would reciprocate.

"Well then I'm John, just John," With an obvious reluctance he pushed his mask up as well and then gestured at Gibbs hair. "Marine, or is it part of the costume?"

"Former marine."

The man's eyes glittered when he heard Gibbs' answer. The effect on his otherwise ascetic features was unsettling, almost as if another creature was looking out from behind a mask. Then the moment passed and the pleasant smile returned.

Gibbs heard Abby in his earwig. "Got it, I'm running facial recognition software now."

"Try running it through the military databanks first. I've got a hunch there's a reason our guy is fixated on the military," muttered Tony into his microphone.

"Tony, wouldn't some of his DNA have been at the crime scene and already come up if he was military?" asked McGee.

"Look at him, Probie; he's covered from head to foot. he's even wearing a wig. What are the chances he'd be careless enough to leave trace behind."

Gibbs glanced over at Tony and gave him a barely perceptible nod. As usual, his seemingly unfocused senior agent was right on target. Tony was living proof that appearances could be deceiving.

The drinks arrived and Gibbs caught Tony's eye again, indicating with a glance at his companion's glass that Tony should try to snag it from the waitress once it was empty. They might not have turned up any DNA from the crime scene, but it couldn't hurt to have a sample in case they did. Then he went back to his attempts at romancing their suspect.

"Gibbs...Gibbs, I've got a hit!" Abby's voice came suddenly into his earwig. "'John' is an alias, but you probably already figured that out. Anyway, his real name is James Hathaway and he used to be in the army. In fact, it looks like almost his whole family was military. Here's the interesting part - he was given a general discharge about two years ago. The file is mostly sealed but on his discharge papers the code is listed as 257 - that's the one for homosexual acts."

"Sounds like this could be our man, do you want us to come in and get him now?" asked Ziva in Gibbs' ear.

"Can't," whispered Tony, "we've got a theory but no evidence and somehow I doubt this perp is gonna crack in interrogation."

"You could always let me 'interrogate' him," offered Ziva.

"Ziva, we can't do that here," objected McGee.

"Who's to know? I won't leave any marks."

"Having a bad day, Ziva? You sound awfully eager to take out your aggressions on someone," asked Abby.

"I am just suggesting that sometimes there may be more *effective* methods available," Ziva said in a huff.

Gibbs realized he needed to intervene before the bickering got any more out of hand. He knew it was just the result of the tension that any undercover op brought on, but he still didn't want anyone jumping the gun now that they were close to finally getting some answers in this case.

"I need to use the facilities," he said to Hathaway, then he leaned in closer, "I hope you'll still be here when I get back."

"Oh, I'll be here. I find you military men too ... fascinating ... to leave alone."

Gibbs headed for the restrooms and began talking softly as soon as he was out of sight. "Ziva, you and Tim sit tight, I'm gonna try to get this sleaze to make a move on me. It's the only way we'll get anything to hold him with. DiNozzo, as soon as we leave, bag his glass, his DNA might come in handy."

"On it boss, or at least I will be as soon as I get this dude dressed up as a pornographic fireman to stop hitting on me."

Gibbs chuckled a bit and then continued his directions. "Ziva, you and McGee can follow when we leave but keep your distance,distance; I need you to give this guy enough room to make a move."

"Gibbs, you'll be careful, right?" said Abby in a worried voice.

"I think I can handle this guy, Abs. I'll be fine."

"Just please hurry, boss. The people here are starting to creep me out," whined Tony. "Not to mention the fact that this damned harness is chafing the shit out of my chest."

"I thought you were enjoying yourself, Tony. aren't you the one who loves to go clubbing?" said McGee with a snicker.

"There are clubs and then there are clubs, McInnocent, and I certainly don't get my kicks at this kind."

"I don't not know, Tony, you seemed to be having quite a good time dancing with Gibbs," was Ziva's reply.

"It was for the case, dammit."

"Oh, and was it the case that got you so *excited*?"

"I was not excited!"

"Uhm, Tony, your costume doesn't leave a lot to the imagination," pointed out McGee.

"Jesus Christ, Probie, have you been staring at my crotch again."

McGee blushed deep red at the thought and Ziva laughed before answering, "No, but I was."

"Me too," chimed in Abby, "It was the cutest thing ever..."

"Shit! Boss, please tell me you're gonna destroy these tapes as soon as we get back to headquarters."

"I don't know, Tony, keeping a copy might help me keep you in line," joked Gibbs before he reentered the club's main room.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting, I was in self imposed internet exile in the effort to catch up on some RL work. I will post the next three chapters one right after another as a reward for your patience. Enjoy!_

While the team had been busy yanking each others chains, they had not been watching the monitors. Unnoticed by any of them, Hathaway had reached into a pocket and pulled out a small capsule. He opened it and dumped the contents into Gibbs' drink, giving the glass a quick swirl to dissolve the drug. When Gibbs returned and sat down, the first thing he did was empty his glass. Thanks to the bitter flavor of the tonic and the tang of the lime, he didn't taste anything amiss. "What do you say you drink up and we take this somewhere more private?"

Hathaway hesitated, perhaps wanting to wait for the drug to take effect, but rather than object he just took a few extra minutes to finish his beer before answering Gibbs. "I have a place not far from here. It's quite comfortable and we can walk there easily." Then he replaced his glass on the table and stood up.

Hathaway and Gibbs headed out, pausing at the entrance to retrieve their coats. The parking lot lights were dim, making the deserted but well lit street seem almost inviting by comparison. The pair headed left along the street, passing the closed and shuttered fronts of various local businesses. This was not a residential area and Gibbs wondered if Hathaway really did have a residence here or if the whole "walking distance" spiel was only a ruse to get his victims to the deserted lot. He didn't see the NCIS van but he knew Ziva and McGee were monitoring him via his camera and microphone. Tony had hopefully collected Hathaway's beer glass, and after bagging it, he would follow on foot, getting directions from his partners in the van. None of this worried Gibbs, he might be quite a bit older than Hathaway but he was bigger, and he was sure, better trained.

Despite his confidence, as they headed out, Gibbs hung back just enough to keep Hathaway slightly ahead of him. _Should be a rule, _he thought, _never let a suspect walk behind you. Wonder how I missed that one? _He almost chuckled out loud but stopped and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. _There's another one I missed: always keep your focus when undercover. Or does that fall under number ten: Always keep your focus on the case. Gotta think about that ... _No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on Hathaway, Gibbs' mind kept wandering. He stumbled a bit and noticed that his feet felt very far removed from the rest of his body. The drug that Hathaway had added to his drink was beginning to take effect.

Back in the van, McGee and Ziva worried as they watched the video feed from Gibbs' lapel become unsteady, bobbing and weaving as Gibbs began to stagger.

"What is he doing?" McGee whispered as the picture lurched yet again. "Do you think we need to go after him?"

"Not yet," Ziva cautioned. "Ducky told us our victim was extremely drunk when he was killed. Perhaps Gibbs is faking it. He will not thank us if we ruin his plan before he gets the evidence we need."

They continued watching in dismay as Hathaway disappeared from their monitors. The two men were approaching the murder site and Gibbs had let the suspect get behind him. Biting her lip, Ziva waited another moment to see if Gibbs' would correct their positions but it didn't happen.

"Tony, you need to get out here," she hissed into her microphone. "Something is wrong with Gibbs."

"On it, Ziva. Which way did they go?"

"Left, towards the crime scene," McGee answered, "and Tony, I think you need to hurry."

Tony glanced down the deserted street, saw nothing, and began to run.

"Ziva, McGee, what is happening? Is Gibbs okay?" Abby's worried voice burst into their headsets. "Oh my God, what is he doing?" she cried as the video feed rapidly blurred, only to resolve itself as a clear shot of the ground - from only a foot away.

"Hurry up, Tony," urged McGee. "They're at the empty lot and I think Gibbs has fallen on his hands and knees."

Ziva jumped to her feet. "I am not waiting any longer. They need my help.'" She grabbed her gun and opened the rear doors of the van. She was out and running down the street before McGee even realized what she was doing.

"McGee!'" shouted Abby, "Are you just going to sit there? Gibbs needs your help!"

McGee moaned in frustration. "I can't, Abby. I have to stay with the van and make sure we get it all recorded."

"Just do something!" Abby was now in tears. McGee could see her on the lab monitor, pacing wildly and wringing her hands.

Unable to help in any other way, McGee began to speak into Gibbs' earwig. "C'mon boss, time to get up. Boss! Can you hear me? You need to get up and turn around, our perp is behind you. Gibbs! Get up, Gibbs!"

By the time Gibbs realized that he was drugged, it was too late. They reached the vacant lot and Hathaway planted a hand on Gibbs' back and shoved. Foggy from the drug and unable to keep his balance, Gibbs stumbled forward through the open gate then fell to his hands and knees. They were just far enough inside the lot to be nearly invisible from the street outside.

Hathaway removed a length of rope from his pocket and bent over to wrap it around Gibbs neck. He then used it to pull Gibbs' head up, applying enough pressure to make swallowing difficult but not enough to completely cut off his air. He leaned down until his mouth was near Gibbs' ear and a sick smile spread across his face.

"How is your evening going now, Mr. Gibbs? Do you like my special place?" Hathaway glanced around the litter strewn lot. "I think the i_decor/i_ is quite suitable for a piece of hypocritical trash like you."

"Why ... hypocrite ... what have I done ... to you?" Gibbs was barely conscious but he still managed to gasp out his question.

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say because Hathaway growled with anger and gave the rope a hard shake, making Gibbs cough and sputter as he tried to breathe through the pressure.

"It was you, and the other closeted hypocrites like you, that got me thrown out of the Army. 'Other than honorable' discharge they called it, but the you're the ones without honor. Well, now I'm making you pay for your sins."

Then he drew a knife and began to cut the clothes off Gibbs' back, the tip of the weapon occasionally drawing blood as Gibbs struggled ineffectually beneath him. Hathaway had no real trouble controlling Gibbs with the heavy dose of drugs making his movements slow and uncoordinated.

That was the scene Tony saw as he skidded around the corner and plunged through the gate into the deserted lot. He took one look at the knife poised over Gibbs and flung himself at Hathaway without even thinking to draw his gun. He grabbed Hathaway by the arm, bending the killer's wrist back until the knife fell from his nerveless fingers. Hathaway responded by using his free arm to claw at Tony's face, fingers extended and aiming for his eyes. Tony fended off the hand and got a hold on Hathaway's collar but he heard a groan coming from Gibbs' now prone form and his worries overwhelmed him. Using all his strength, he shoved Hathaway towards the brick wall of the adjoining building. When Hathaway hit the wall, his head snapped back with a sickening thump and he slid down to a seated position in slow motion, his eyes rolling back as he lost consciousness.

Tony didn't spare the killer another glance. He turned back towards Gibbs, and after two quick strides, he was kneeling by his side. Gibbs was unresponsive as Tony rolled him over and cradled his head in his lap, calling his name and chafing his hands in an effort to awaken him. All his attention was focused on his injured boss and he never even noticed when Hathaway began to blink and shake his head. The knock against the wall had been enough to seriously stun him but not enough to put him out for good. Keeping a careful watch on Tony, Hathaway slowly reached down towards his ankle and pulled a small handgun from the holster where it had been concealed. He crawled to his knees, knocking aside a discarded soda can when he put a hand down to steady himself. The noise alerted Tony who looked up just in time to see the gun barrel line up with his own forehead.


	6. Chapter 6

Before Tony could do more than gasp, he heard the sharp report of a shot being fired. He ducked down, covering Gibbs, expecting to feel the sting of an impact and hoping Hathaway's aim was poor, but there was nothing. When he raised his head he saw Hathaway rolling on the ground cradling his shredded right hand and Ziva standing in the entrance to the lot, breathing hard, her Sig still pointed in Hathaway's direction.

"Have you lost your mind, Tony?" she gasped as she headed over to cuff the killer. "Or did enough protocol slip away that you forgot about securing the perp. You almost got yourself killed."

"I just ... I thought he was down ... and Gibbs ..."

Ziva looked down at Gibbs still unconscious form and then back at Tony. Her expression softened as she observed the scene. "Right," she said, all sternness gone from her voice. "How bad is he hurt?"

"I think it's just the drugs but Hathaway looked like he was strangling him." Tony pointed out the bruising on Gibbs neck. "We won't really know until we get him to a hospital."

"McGee has already called for a bus. It should be here any minute."

Just then, the NCIS van pulled up to the lot and stopped with a screech of its tires. As if summoned by the mention of his name, McGee spilled out of the driver's door and ran over to join Ziva and Tony. Through the open door of the van, they could hear Abby's distressed voice coming from the speakers as she loudly demanded that someone tell her what was going on.

"What happened?" McGee said as he gazed around the scene, taking in Ziva's drawn gun. "I thought Tony got here first."

"Do not ask," Ziva said with a nod towards Tony and Gibbs.

When the EMT's arrived, they pronounced Gibbs stable despite his continued unresponsiveness. Hathaway was also bandaged and, chained to a gurney, loaded into another ambulance. Tony stood looking between the two emergency vehicles, the expression on his face making it clear that, despite his duties, he wanted to ride with Gibbs.

"Go on Tony," Ziva said when she saw his face, then she glanced over at Hathaway. "I don't think he is going to escape now. We will meet you at the hospital." McGee nodded his agreement.

With a thankful glance, Tony hopped into the ambulance and resumed his position at Gibbs' side.

Midnight found the team clustered in the hospital waiting room. Even Abby and Ducky had driven over from headquarters. The doctors had quickly checked Gibbs over and assured them that aside from a strained shoulder, a bruised larynx, and a few superficial cuts and contusions, Gibbs' continued unconsciousness was due only to the heavy dose of GHB he had ingested.

"So there's nothing wrong with his head or anything," Tony queried.

"Well, we can't be one hundred percent sure until he wakes up but the scans didn't show any damage."

Ducky placed his hand on Tony's shoulder, "If there was any real worry they would let us know," he reassured the younger man.

"Can I see him?" Tony asked.

"Certainly, but it may be hours until he wakes."

"What about Hathaway?" Ziva asked, all business now that it seemed Gibbs was out of danger. "When can we question him?"

"I'm not handling his case but I understand he has been taken into surgery. There was quite a bit of damage to his hand and I don't know how long the operation will take. I'll see to it that you are notified as soon as he's in Recovery." The doctor headed towards the swinging doors, turning back just before he reached them. "I'll have a nurse come by to take you to Mr. Gibbs," he said and then disappeared into the bowels of the hospital.

When the nurse arrived, the whole team crowded towards the door. "Two only," she said sternly. They glanced among themselves and then, with one mind, Ziva, McGee, and Ducky stepped away, leaving Tony and a tear-stained Abby to follow the nurse.

When they got to the room, the nurse pushed open the door and stood aside to allow them to enter. Tony and Abby hurried through, only to be brought up short when they saw Gibbs. Other than a cannula sending oxygen to his nose, he was not hooked to any alarming machinery. Still, both Tony and Abby were shocked at the sight of their usually vigorous leader lying so limply in the bed.

Abby recovered first, hurrying to the bed and clasping one of Gibbs' hands in her own. "Gibbs ... Gibbs, can you hear me? I need you to wake up because you're scaring me, and you know how much I hate to be scared."

Tony joined her, wrapping his arm around her in an effort to provide some comfort. "Abs, you heard the doctor. He won't wake up until the drugs clear his system, but he's going to be okay."

"How do you know Tony? How can you be sure?"

"I know because he has to be okay, because if he isn't okay then I don't think I will be either."

Abby looked up at him, surprised by his admission and taking in the all-too-real distress on Tony's face. "We saw you on the video feed ... when you were dancing. I don't know how you've kept it hidden, but none of us truly understood how you felt about him. We wondered sometimes, but we didn't know. Are you going to tell him?" Abby held Tony's gaze as she waited for an answer.

At first Tony thought about protesting, or possibly cracking a joke to deflect her inquiry, but then he looked down at Gibbs and realized that he had come too close to losing him to keep hiding behind lighthearted banter and phony machismo. When he looked back up at Abby, there were tears glinting in his eyes. "I don't know how," he said.

"You just tell him. When he wakes up, you take his hand and tell him how you feel."

"But what if he doesn't want me? What if he's horrified? Then I'll be worse off than before."

"Do you really want to go on as you are?" Abby said, then she smiled. "Besides, if what I saw in that club is anything to go by, you have nothing to worry about."

Before Tony could absorb her last statement, the nurse came back into the room. "Time's up," she said. Tony and Abby started to protest but she gave them a stern look. "Ten minutes is all you're allowed." Then she relented. "I promise I'll call you as soon as he wakes up."

When Tony and Abby returned to the waiting room, the others crowded around them, eager for news about Gibbs' condition.

"He's still asleep, but otherwise he looks okay. The nurse promised to get us as soon as he comes out of it, but it could be a few hours. Until then, we just have to wait," Tony explained.

"Actually, we can work on the case," countered McGee.

"Yes, Hathaway's doctor came out while you were gone. He is in recovery and should be ready to answer a few questions soon," Ziva added.

"You're right," agreed Tony. As senior agent, he knew it was up to him to get the team back on track. Director Vance had made it abundantly clear that he wanted this wrapped up as soon as possible. "McGee, Abby, I want you to go back to NCIS and see what else you can dig up on our perp's background. Also, try to locate his family. We have to notify them and we need to question them as well."

"But, Tony, we can't leave right now," Abby pouted.

"Bad enough that when Gibbs wakes up we have to explain how we missed the perp putting drugs in his drink, do you really want to tell him we let the case slide while we hung out at the hospital?" Tony asked.

"Well ... when you put it that way. C'mon McGee, let's get cracking, the sooner we gather the information, the sooner we can get back here." Abby grabbed McGee's hand and headed for the exit.

"And what are we going to do?" asked Ziva.

"We're going to question that bastard, Hathaway, and find out what sort of twisted mind led him to do this. Since, thank God, we don't have another dead body; Ducky can stay here and let us know when Gibbs regains consciousness."

"I will call you the moment he awakens," Ducky solemnly promised.


	7. Chapter 7

Back at headquarters, Abby and McGee made quick work of locating Hathaway's father. Fifteen minutes after they arrived, they had him on the phone.

"Is this General Hathaway?" McGee asked when a deep male voice answered the phone.

"Yes."

"Sir, this is Special Agent McGee, NCIS, and I'm afraid I have some bad news about your son -"

"I don't have a son," was the general's terse response.

"But ... but ..." McGee stuttered in confusion, frantically tapping at his computer keys in an effort to figure out how he could have made such a mistake.

"Perhaps, I should be clearer. I had a son, but the pervert disgraced the family tradition and I no longer recognize his existence. Whatever he has done, I don't want to know about it." Then the general hung up.

"Wow!" said Abby, who had been listening in on the other line, "he sure is a piece of work."

"What? You expected a freak like Hathaway to have a *normal* family?"

"No, but General Daddy was seriously hinky, and now you have to call him back. I don't think he's going to be very happy with you."

"Thanks so much for reminding me," Tim retorted as he hit redial. He waited until the ringing stopped and began speaking before the general could object. "Sir, this is Agent McGee again, and I really have to insist that you answer a few questions for me. We can do it on the phone and keep you at arm's length from this mess or, if you refuse, I can have you brought in for questioning. The choice is yours."

"Way to grow some, Timmy," mouthed Abby almost silently.

McGee pressed his finger to his lips to shush her as he waited for the general to answer.

There was a disgruntled sigh on the other end of the line, and then the general finally spoke. "Fine, but make it quick. You do realize that it is nearly two in the morning."

"Ye, sir, I know that, but your son is a suspect in several murders and it is imperative that we gather as much information as we can, as quickly as possible." McGee waited, expecting to hear some sort of protestation regarding innocence, but it never came, so he dove right in to the questions. "Can you tell me when you last saw your son?"

"I haven't seen him since the day he received his discharge, almost three years ago."

"Do you know what he's been doing for work since then, or where he's been living?"

"I can tell you where he was living - in a condo on Preston Street that used to belong to his grandmother. As far as what he's been doing, I haven't the faintest idea, but I doubt it involved work. His grandmother, on my wife's side, felt I was too hard on him and when she died, shortly after James' discharge, she not only left him the condo, but also the majority of her rather generous estate."

"Could you tell me a bit more about the circumstances that led to his discharge? I'm afraid the records relating to it seem to have gone missing."

"Damn right, they're missing. I had them purged to protect the family name. I may be retired, but a general can always get someone to do him a favor."

"Sir, I'm going to need you to fill me in on the details." The general started to object but McGee interrupted him. "Do I have to remind you about the possibility of being brought in for questioning, sir?"

"There isn't much to tell. I always knew that there was something wrong with James but I hoped that the army would knock it out of him. At first it seemed to work, but it didn't last and eventually he propositioned the wrong person. He was reported for homosexual acts and given a less than honorable discharge. That is really all I can tell you, I never wanted to know the details."

"Thank you, sir."

"Is that all you need? Because I would like to go back to sleep."

"I think we're good for now, I'll call again if we need anymore information."

"Just make sure that next time you call at a decent hour." And with that, General Hathaway hung up.

"That was one cold dude," said Abby with a shiver. "He didn't even ask if his son was alive or dead."

"I don't think he cared. No wonder the psycho was killing military men - I think he was really trying to kill his father."

"And maybe a part of himself, it fits the profile. You need to call Tony and Ziva; they'll want this information before they question Hathaway."

McGee nodded and reached for his phone again.

Tony and Ziva stood outside Hathaway's room, leaning against the wall as they waited for the nurse to let them in to question the now conscious Hathaway. Ziva looked over at Tony and noticed just how tired and stressed he looked, the fluorescent lights and sickly green walls giving him a sickly pallor that made him look as though he should be in one of the hospital rooms himself.

"I do not understand why we are bothering with this, Tony. We know he attacked Gibbs. Is that not enough to convince a jury he also did the other killings?" Ziva said.

"The jury is the problem. If there's a trial, there'll be publicity and SecNav, heck, the entire military, wants this swept under the rug. Preferably tonight."

"Are you sure you are up to this right now, Tony?"

"I'm up for anything that puts this asshole away for the rest of his unnatural life."

Before Ziva could reply to that, the nurse stepped out of the room. She was an older, heavy-set woman who's short, salt and pepper curls covered her head like a helmet. When Tony and Ziva headed for the door, she held up a hand to atop them and said in a voice worthy of a drill sergeant, ", "ten minutes - and the only reason you're getting that much is a special request from some high muckety-mucks. Never heard of such a thing - I don't care what he did, he's barely out of surgery, one second over and I'm coming in."

When the nurse walked off, Tony looked over at Ziva and said, "I was going to suggest some of your brand of persuasion but then we'd have to answer to _her _and I'm not sure even you can take Nursezilla if it came to a fight."

"Tony, we do not have time for your jokes, especially since I have no idea how we are going to get him to confess in ten minutes."

"I have an idea, just follow my lead," Tony said as he pushed open the door and swung into the room.

Hathaway lay on the bed, awake but still slightly groggy from the anesthesia. His right hand and arm were heavily bandaged and splinted up to the elbow and there was a shaved patch on the back of his head where another bandage covered the gash he had gotten when Tony threw him into the wall. Despite his injuries, he was locked to the bed to insure that he couldn't escape. Seeing him like this, Tony had a moment of surprise when he thought about how this apparently unprepossessing person had almost killed Gibbs, but then Hathaway turned his head to look over at them and the menace in his eyes made a shiver run down Tony's spine.

"Hello, there, Hathaway. That is your name isn't it? After what you did, I won't call you mister and I can't call you lieutenant since the army kicked you out." Tony was watching carefully and noticed the slight flash of anger that Hathaway showed at the mention of his discharge. Tony held up a recorder and told Hathaway that he would be recording their conversation.

"Tape if you want, I'm not saying anything."

"Fine with me, we don't really need you to. We know what you did." Then Tony gave him an assessing look. "Seems like the army got it right when they kicked you out."

"You don't know anything about it," Hathaway replied.

"Yes, we do. We talked to your father and he told us all about you," Ziva added.

"Yeah, and you know, he didn't seem all that surprised to find out that you've been raping and murdering men," Tony said, putting special emphasis on the sex of his victims, sure that the accusation would get a rise out of the killer, especially since it wasn't totally accurate. Hathaway had been killing his victims, but at least according to Ducky, he had not raped them.

"I did not!"

"Oh, forgive me; I must have gotten it wrong. What was it? You killed them first and then raped them?" Tony said with fake joviality.

Despite his injuries, Hathaway nearly leapt off the bed at that statement, only the hand and ankle cuffs kept him down. "I did not rape them!" he said through gritted teeth.

"But you did kill them," Ziva said.

"The military should thank me for what I was doing."

"Thank you for killing their officers?" Tony said in mock disbelief.

"I was 'taking out the trash.'"

"Taking out the trash?" Ziva asked.

"That's what my father calls getting rid of undesirables." Hathaway said, becoming more confident now that he thought he was convincing them of his view.

"Undesirables? I think your father and the army believe you _are _one of the 'undesirables,'" Tony pointed out.

"They're wrong," Hathaway snarled. "They threw me out when I was only trying to expose the captain. That's why I had to use a more final solution this time. This time I got rid of the trash for good."

Tony didn't even bother to reply to him, simply shaking his head and looking over at Ziva. "Think we got enough?" he asked her.

"More than enough," she replied.

Then they turned and walked out, leaving Hathaway thrashing out his frustration alone on the bed. When they got back to the waiting room, they found Gibbs' doctor talking with Ducky.

"Ah, Tony, you are just in time," Ducky said as he motioned them over. "Dr. Keenan was just telling me that our patient has awakened and appears to be none the worse for wear."

"He's okay?" Tony asked, wanting to hear it from the doctor for himself.

"Yes, a bit groggy still and suffering from a massive headache but otherwise in possession of all his faculties," the doctor assured him. "You can see him if you like, but only one at a time."

Tony looked over at Ducky, prepared to defer to the older man, who had, after all, been the one waiting for the doctor but Ducky waved him towards the door.

"When you get to my age, Anthony, you learn that an hour or so is not a very long time. You go first, I can wait."

Tony didn't have to be told twice. He scrambled off to catch up with the doctor before he disappeared behind the swinging doors of the ward. When they got to Gibbs' room, the doctor indicated it with a wave of his hand.

"I'll tell the nurses station you're in there but don't stay long and try not to upset him."


	8. Chapter 8

Despite his previous anticipation, now that he was actually able to see Gibbs, he found himself hesitating. His mind played Abby's earlier advice over and over, like a broken tape. _When he wakes up, you take his hand and tell him how you feel. _Easy enough to say, but quite a bit harder to do when the person you are telling is a gruff former marine, and your boss to boot. Finally Tony took a deep breath and pushed open the door, telling himself that he would play it by ear but no matter what he ended up confessing, he needed to see for himself that Gibbs was okay. No sooner had he entered the room then he was startled by Gibbs' gruff voice, more gravelly then normal thanks to the treatment his neck had received at Hathaway's hands.

"Wondered ... when you ... were finally ... going to come ... in," Gibbs choked out.

"What? How did you know I was even out there," Tony asked. Gibbs simply quirked an eyebrow in lieu of an answer. "Oh, right," Tony said. "Well, it's good to know you're still Gibbs, superpowers and all."

"Report," Gibbs croaked.

"Uhm, we have the case under control, I even got a confession of sorts."

"Not ... a ...report." Gibbs frustration was evident and Tony was struck by the irony of his usually taciturn boss frustrated by an inability to speak easily. He would have thought that Gibbs would use his temporary incapacity as an excuse to shut up entirely and communicate with glares and headslaps alone.

"The thing is, boss, I have specific instructions not to subject you to stress. I don't know if you've met Nurse Rached yet, and while I would normally be much more afraid of you than of her, right now you're in a bed and she's on her feet, so I think I'll follow the instructions."

"DiNozzo -" said Gibbs, his voice sounding extra threatening as he rasped out Tony's name.

"On second thought, you are much closer than she is so maybe I could change my mind. But only the important details. You'll have to be satisfied with that." Tony waited to see what Gibbs' reaction would be - and Gibbs waited for Tony to start talking.

"This ... year ... DiNozzo."

"Oh, right. While Hathaway was in surgery, McGee and Abby confirmed his identity and got in touch with his father, who filled us in on the 'other than honorable' discharge that junior got from the army. Seems that he propositioned a superior officer, a male superior, and they gave him the boot. At which point daddy gave him the boot as well, not being particularly fond of a son who played for the wrong team. The superior officer, who may or may not have been gay, got off scott free and I suspect that Hathaway was harboring a lot of resentment about that. I also thought about how he posed the bodies, and the fact that they weren't raped, put that together with daddy's attitude and decided that it was probably important to Hathaway that people _not_ think he was gay, although I suspect that is his true orientation whether he admits it or not.

"When Ziva and I went in to question him, I emphasized that the army and his father thought he was a homosexual. I also kept saying that he raped his victims. Heck, I even implied he engaged in a touch of necrophilia. Finally he got so angry that it was more important to him to explain that he was trying to expose the 'undesireables', not have sex with them, than it was to keep quiet about his exploits. Ziva witnessed it, we've got the whole thing on tape, and it's on its way to the authorities right now. I'm sure the powers that be will offer him a deal and whatever lawyer he hires will tell him to take it. The whole case should be wrapped up and Hathaway under lock and key before the media ever gets wind of it."

"Good ... work."

Tony winced at the undeserved praise. "No, boss, it wasn't. If I had stayed focused you wouldn't be lying here because I would have seen the bastard drug your drink."

"Not ... your ... fault. We didn't ... know."

"Yeah, but I was supposed to be watching him and instead I was watching ... you," Tony said, his voice so strangled with guilt that he sounded as bad as Gibbs. "And then, when he attacked you, I forgot all my training and nearly got us both killed. I can't go on like this. I'm sorry to lay this on you while your down and out but I can't go on without saying anything."

Eyes filled with anguish, Tony stared down at Gibbs, hoping to see some sign in his expression that would indicate whether he knew what Tony was talking about but Gibbs had turned his head away and appeared to be engaging in a mental debate of his own. _Well, _thought Tony, _ I've gone to far to stop now._

Tony took a deep breath and continued. "I have ... feelings for you. Feelings that go beyond what I should have for a boss, and what I would have for a friend." He stopped, unsure of what else to say and waiting for a reaction. But Gibbs was still silent, seemingly too shocked by Tony's revelation to respond.

"Right," Tony gulped back his disappointment. "You'll have my resignation on your desk as soon as you get back to work."

Then, taking a deep breath in an attempt to hold back the embarrassing tears that were threatening to form in his eyes, he turned to leave. Before he could get far from the bed, Gibbs' hand shot out and caught Tony's wrist in an iron grip.

"Wait."

"For what, boss. I think I've already said too much."

"We need ... to talk."

"No, we don't. I told you how I feel and apparently you don't agree. I don't think we can work together after this so I'll leave."

Gibbs cursed the rope that had made speaking so difficult. Tony did not understand his hesitation at all - he was wondering how, not whether, to make this work. Finally, unable to stand the desolate look in Tony's eyes, he did the only thing he could think of. He pulled Tony's hand up to his mouth, uncurled his fingers, and pressed his lips to his palm.

Then he looked his senior agent in the eye and said, "Later. When I ... can speak."

The sudden transition from agony to exhilaration left Tony at a loss for words and he didn't get a chance to recover. Before he found his tongue, the craggy-faced nurse opened the door and told him his time was up.

"And don't make me tell you twice, young man, because that's when I start to get really cranky," she added.

Tony started to object but Gibbs waved him off. "Later," he whispered again.

Tony looked from Gibbs to the hand he had kissed and curled his fingers into a gentle fist as if to hold onto the sensation of Gibbs' lips. Then he brought that hand up to his heart, cradling his arm against his chest, and with one last, long look at Gibbs, he left, a besotted smile plastered across his tired face. Later would be soon enough.


End file.
